Platonic Domesticity
by YourFairyGodfather
Summary: "Brittany marveled at Kurt's face as it went from normal to really, really white in about four seconds. Wow! He had to teach her how to do that!" Brittany wants to do something nice for Kurt. Kurt would like to make it out of the garage in one piece.


Sequel to "Amicable Exes"; This can be read on its own, but makes much more sense if you read AE first.

Way, way excited for tomorrow night's episode. Also way, way happy over all the lovely comments these stories have been getting. My ego thanks you all profusely.

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Brittany wiped a drop of sweat from her forehead, being extra careful not to drop the box she was carrying. It hadn't been that heavy when she had first started off, but the walk from her house to Kurt's garage was almost a mile, and she'd almost gotten lost a couple of times. Plus, the box was pretty big—it used to hold their microwave—so it was kind of difficult and awkward to hang on to. But she was finally here, and the long walk was worth it: Kurt was going to be so, so surprised. She could hardly wait to see the look on his face--it was going to be awesome.

Smiling happily, she made her way up the gravel driveway to the huge open doors of the garage. Peering around the garage for Kurt, she was distracted by all the machinery. There were cars, and power tools, and even some big orange hats! Brittany grinned when she saw the hats. She knew how much Kurt loved fashion; maybe his dad was letting him make and sell some of his own designs here. And maybe if he made enough money, he could quit his post office job! Kurt never talked about it, and Brittany didn't want to bring it up and embarrass him, but she was sure that Kurt secretly hated his secret job.

Brittany put the box down at her feet and picked up a hat. Trying it on, she shook her head from side to side. It was a little heavier than she was used to, but Kurt was super fashionable and probably knew what he was doing. And even if it did smell a little like gasoline, she would be a supportive Somewhat Gay Not-Girlfriend and not mention it.

Besides, she could always put it in the washing machine when she got home.

Brittany was reaching into her purse for her cell phone to call Kurt when she heard a cough. Looking around, she spotted a pair of legs sticking out from underneath a car. She frowned, puzzled. Why would somebody leave their legs just lying there, where someone could come along and step on them by mistake? Her face lit up—she could be helpful and move them out of the way! That way, nobody would trip over them and get hurt. Grabbing hold of the shoes, Brittany pulled as hard as she could.

Unfortunately, pulling as hard as she could was a little too hard.

And as it turned out, the legs were still attached to a person.

Who was lying on some sort of skateboard made for a person's back instead the feet.

Brittany gasped in horror as the force of her pull on the shoes sent legs, person, and skateboard careening into the wall. "Mr. Hummel! Are you okay?" He moaned, and she grabbed his hand to help him stand up. "Where's your helmet?" she asked, using her best Mom voice. Mr. Hummel gave her a weird look. "My—what the hell did you think I was doing under there?" he asked, rubbing his head.

Brittany could tell by the tone of his voice that a.) He was annoyed with her, and b.) That skateboarding on his back was not the right answer. But why else would he be under a car on a skateboard with his legs sticking out? Unless…Brittany had watched the Wizard of Oz on TV last weekend. Maybe Mr. Hummel was practicing for the part of the witch that got crushed by the house! It made much more sense for him to be practicing with a car instead of a real house--he had lots of cars here, but the only house he owned had a basement. She thought that the witch was supposed to be a girl, but if Kurt could sing girl's songs all the time, why couldn't his dad play a girl part too? It probably ran in the family.

Brittany didn't get a chance to congratulate him on getting the part, though, because Mr. Hummel was shaking his head. "You know what? I don't wanna know," he said, eyeing Brittany's new hat warily. "Kurt! Brittany's here!"

Kurt stuck his head out from inside the office. "Hey Britt," he called out, before giving her a funny look. "Um, sweetheart," he said slowly, "why are you wearing a traffic cone on your head?" Brittany beamed at him. "I'm a customer!" she said brightly. "How much is the hat?"

Brittany hadn't known that Kurt and his dad were telepathic, but they must have learned it somewhere because after staring at each other for a minute, Mr. Hummel clapped Brittany on the shoulder. "We actually weren't planning on selling them yet," he explained, "but you can have one for free if you promise not to wear it outside your house." Brittany nodded, eyes wide. She could do that. She wouldn't want anyone to steal Kurt's design, after all.

Remembering her manners, she thanked them both politely. "I have a present for you too, to make up for last week. I even made a card!" She opened her purse and rummaged through it until she found the pink construction paper. She handed the folded, glittery paper to Kurt, who read it out loud. "_Happy_ _Break Up, Kurt! Sorry this card is so late, I forgot to write down the day on my calendar ahead of time. Have fun sleeping with men! Super love, Brittany_."

Wow, the Hummels must have really liked her card! They were smiling so hard, they were shaking, and Mr. Hummel's face was even turning red from grinning so widely. Kurt cleared his throat. "That's really nice of you, Brittany. Did you do the whole thing yourself?" Brittany nodded proudly. "_And_, I picked out your gift too, without any help from Santa!" As soon as she spoke, she inhaled sharply, smile faltering as she realized her mistake—she wasn't supposed to tell anyone about Santa! Every time a Christmas or birthday or something was coming up, Santa would leave a note in her locker or under her pillow, telling her what to buy and where she could find it. She was really glad, because picking out presents for people was actually really hard, but he reminded her in every note not to tell anyone but Santana that he was her pen pal—he didn't have time to write to everyone, and people might get jealous if they knew he was helping her. Brittany was happy to keep his secret, and would sometimes leave him cookies in her locker as a thank you.

She wasn't sure how Santa had gotten her locker combination, but she suspected that the tooth fairy was helping him out with the notes under her pillow. The tooth fairy would probably find the cookies insulting though, so Brittany just flossed a lot more often instead.

Luckily for her and Santa, Kurt and Mr. Hummel didn't seem to notice her accidental slip—they were speaking in telepathic again. Brittany didn't speak telepathic, but she didn't want to interrupt (interrupting was rude). So she did the same thing she did when Mr. Schue was teaching Spanish class, or when Tina talked in Asian on the phone with her parents: smiled politely and waited for it to be over. And it only took another second or two before Kurt turned back to her, a kind of weird-looking smile on his face. "Okay," he exhaled, "can I open it?" Brittany nodded and carried the box over to him. "Sorry I didn't wrap it," she apologized, placing it on the ground in front of him. "I was going to try, but I didn't want to block the airholes."

Brittany marveled at Kurt's face as it went from normal to really, really white in about four seconds. Wow! He _had _to teach her how to do that! "A-airholes?" he stammered. He looked kind of upset. Brittany didn't mean to upset him, she wanted to make him happy. Since it didn't look like he was going to open the box, she knelt down and did it for him, explaining kindly, "I didn't want him to die. Cracker, meet Kurt!" Cracker looked up at them from inside the box and tilted his head to the side.

It worked! Kurt wasn't frowning anymore! Instead, he was laughing harder than Brittany had ever seen him laugh before. Grinning back, she let him clutch her arm to keep from falling over, as he practically choked himself laughing. Cracker seemed happy too—he was waddling in place and flapping his wings a little, looking up at them.

Mr. Hummel looked way confused, looking back and forth between Kurt and Brittany and down at Cracker like he didn't quite understand what was happening. Kurt was still laughing too hard to speak, so Brittany supplied helpfully, "Kurt said he used duck fat to make his hands so soft, and Cracker was the fattest duck I could find. I don't know what to do next, though." She looked at Mr. Hummel. "I must have misread the directions," she whispered to him.

Getting sick really quickly must run in Kurt's family too, because Mr. Hummel was pinching the bridge of his nose just like Puck's mom did whenever she got a headache. Which seemed to happen nearly every time Brittany saw her. "Your- your duck came with directions," Mr. Hummel stated flatly. Brittany's eyes widened. _Did_ he? She had just said that because that's what her mom always said every time the two of them screwed up a recipe or messed up another home improvement project. But what if the duck did come with directions, and she had lost them without meaning to? She was always losing things: her wheelchair, her homework—Santana often said that Brittany had lost her marbles, but she was pretty sure she'd never seen the marbles in the first place.

Unless she lost the memory of seeing and losing the marbles, too. She really was stupid.

Her lip quivered. "I'm sorry, Kurt. I didn't mean to," she said in a very small voice. Kurt had finally stopped laughing, but was still smiling at her. "It's okay, Brittany, don't worry about it," he said, patting her shoulder. And even though Brittany still felt a little bad, Kurt's voice reassured her a bit anyway. "I have a great idea," he told her. "There's a pond behind my house. Why don't we take…Cracker, there, and he can live there and be our pet? We can feed him and watch him swim, and who knows, maybe he'll find a nice girl duck to play with and they can have ducklings?"

Brittany felt all the way better now. "Or a boy duck," she suggested. Kurt had the greatest smile. "Or a boy duck," he agreed. He turned to Mr. Hummel. "Dad, is it okay if I take off a little early so we can go get Cracker settled?" Mr. Hummel was nursing his headache again—Brittany made a mental note to get him her misogynist's phone number—but he nodded anyway. "Fine by me," he said. Brittany carefully closed the box and followed Kurt to the office, where he picked up his coat and car keys.

"So how did Cracker get his name?" he asked, as they crunched their way across the driveway to Kurt's car. Brittany climbed carefully into the passenger seat, trying not to move Cracker too much as she buckled her seatbelt. "My sister was singing Old MacDonald Had a Farm," she told him, "and on the farm he had a duck, and it was named Crack. Like this: '_With a Crack Crack here, and a Crack Crack there…'_ I didn't want to give him the exact same name. I thought it might confuse him too much." She paused. "Do you think Mr. Schue will let us sing that song?" Kurt shook his head. "I don't know. You could always ask." Brittany nodded, settling back into her seat.

She looked at Cracker's box. Maybe Santa would have thought of something better, but she thought she did a pretty good job getting her Not-Boyfriend a Break Up present. It made him really happy. But…maybe she should get Mr. Hummel a present, too. After all, he and Kurt had given her a hat, even after she'd accidently rolled him into a wall. Yes, she decided, she should definitely find him a gift. But she didn't really know much about him, except he liked football and cars and Kurt. And that he was going to be in The Wizard of Oz. That was it!

"Hey Kurt? What size shoe does your dad wear?"

Brittany was going to get the best sparkly red shoes ever for him to practice in.


End file.
